


Baring

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-02 22:45:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8686237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: At the end of a long day.





	

It becomes a ritual, between them. One they practice, when they can. The first to happen is their masks, as they stand face-on. Hands that lift and release, pulling out a face that’s sun-shy and privately worn. Placed to one side, and then it depends who needs to be naked the most. Gloves next, so bare hands are all that touch. It’s important, that. It’s important it’s real.

It’s not even as if it’s always sexual. Sometimes it’s post-battle fatigue and crawling into bed to curl around each other and recharge skin-to-skin.

Her cloak is unclasped, and he finds the stays below the plate with long-worn ease. His fingers slip between the chinks, finding the sensitive parts she hides from the world. The places where pain can still seep in, and he slices through the knots and buckles to rid her of her shell.

Down, off, away. His hands slide over her cotton-clad shoulders as he takes the weight off them, and his torso pins her chest-plate into position until he can lay that down, too. He’s careful not to scuff, not to mar. She breathes deeper as his fingers ease out the places the clothing cuts deep, and he chases all across her clothing to ease her into feeling.

Off go the pieces around her waist. He kneels, now, and pushes his head into her tummy as he slides hands over her ass and pries the next parts free. They fall and leave her silver-gone, diminished and still radiant. His head on her hip, and he lifts with care to stroke her calves and ass. Feels the wave of her spine, and her hands that go to his clothing, next.

Hood removed, and hair brushed in the process. Belt loosened, and the sudden expansion of his middle as if to infinity. Tunic tugged, and sprung-belt-loops slide from his shoulders. The pressure gives, and he grins into her temple as she hoists and snicks and yanks. Fingers over collarbones, and he shudders as she drags down to push his pants down to his feet. They step - gracefully - out of and around his clothes. Boots off with a hand on the other, and then they’re down to the bare minimum.

Kylo smiles. He catches her chin in finger and thumb, pulls her in for a kiss. 

“Better,” he purrs.

She has to agree.


End file.
